


Doctor Who AU

by Wizard8221



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Aliens, Doctor Who Crossover, Drinking, M/M, Multi, Murder, Mystery, travelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard8221/pseuds/Wizard8221
Summary: An ongoing work that shamelessly uses Doctor Who and other shows’ plots in order to send the Doctor (Arthur) across the universe with his companion (Alfred), and the mess they get into along the way.





	Doctor Who AU

**Author's Note:**

> So, well, this is pretty much an edited version of a roleplay I did with my best friend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of the adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of a roleplay me and my best friend did.

“Fine then! Fine, it’s all my fault! Goodbye! Or rather, bye and be off with you, there’s nothing good about that whiny little mutt!” The Doctor was drunk- beyond drunk, he was absolutely wasted. Having just come from a coming-of-age ceremony for some space princess’ sixth hormonal cycle something or other - the details escaped him, since he had been far, far more focused on the refreshments being offered - where he had been celebrating with the best of them, keeping step in the dances, and flirting with the girls. He had gotten his hair braided, and had come to earth in the best of moods, wanting to end the glorious night with some of his favorite people- the human race. Drunk as he was, for a moment, he could fool himself into thinking that he was among his own kind again. Which was, of course, his entire reason for falling so in love with the Earth in the first place. The native species that resembled his own kind in almost every way. But, in his inebriated state, he had gone to the wrong place- instead of going to his beloved London, he had ended up in some dark alleyway across the pond, where he had come out into the street light, and been called out almost immediately for his ethnic braids, which had fouled his mood. He didn’t understand what was wrong with them, nor this idea of “cultural appropriation” - not when they had been given to him as a gift, a sign of good will. But they hadn’t let it go- and he had these strangers all but yelling after him as he left the street, ducking away from the more crowded area, away from the shouts and loud noise. Not only had he showed up in the wrong place- but he was a few good years ahead of where he wanted to end up. From there, each of his encounters with the humans in the area had gotten worse- and worse. . . from stepping in vomit to seeing youths crying as they wiped what appeared to be rainbows from their cheeks as they headed home from the larger gathering. Then, the stupid mutt that he’d been trying to pet while he cleared his head, had actually bitten his leg, and he had been blamed for it by the owner, for getting too close to the Chihuahua’s personal zone, even though he had actually asked before touching it. It was far too much- and he went off. It had been a lovely evening- but then this. . . and everything else. Getting shouted at, seeing young adults cry - He stormed off in a rage, before he simply sat on a city bench, his head in his hands, as angry tears began to flow from his eyes. He didn’t know where his TARDIS was, having walked so far away in an inebriated state, he didn’t know where he was- he couldn’t see straight, couldn’t walk straight- and his stomach was clenching against all of the liquor. “I want to go home. . .”

 

Work had been, well, work. Alfred honestly did enjoy interacting with people, it was why he was so good at his job. His ability to easily form little connections with people, and it was the reason why he’d been promoted so quickly to manager. It was a good thing too, because he’d needed the money. He wanted to save up, to go on all the adventures he’d always dreamed about. But he hadn’t fully anticipated the heavier workload hours wise. Forty hours a week was to be expected, but the company was doing it’s best to get sixty out of him and only pay for forty.  
Too kind hearted to make his fellow employees pick up any of the burden, while also feeling that it was his responsibility to take up as much of the abuse and keep them from it, Alfred never said a word to is co-workers. He needed the job too much to feel secure in voicing his concerns to his managers, so he just took being overworked and underpaid, taking the overtime unofficially, and signing out on time, though he stayed an hour, two hours past his official shift. The job was eating at him, making him feel like he wasn’t worth very much, his confidence and charisma slowly being drained from him while his life passed him by. He’d had to give up his dog to his brother because his work simply didn’t allow him to have enough time to give the guy a good life anymore. So his mindset was fairly gloomy as he sat there on the bench waiting for the late bus home, too tired to walk. What was the point? He was working to go on the trip of a lifetime, but life was sucking every dollar out of him that it could. Between his car payments, gas, rent, the trip was looking farther and farther out of reach.  
So when a ruffled bleeding blond with - were those cornrows? Seriously? Pretty tacky - sat down next to him, Alfred wasn’t too eager to just start chatting at the guy. He was tired and knew that if the guy had just been in a fight, given that mess on his leg, there was a 50/50 chance that he might still be pissed off and violent. So he quickly looked away.  
But then, the second he heard the smooth British voice speaking next to him, he could tell the guy was crying. It was obvious, to Alfred, by the cadence of his voice. The handful of words and broken tone of voice were enough invitation for the empathetic heart to stick his nose in, “Well you’re in a good place to do that, plus the city bus isn’t too expensive.” Alfred looked back at the guy, the breeze from a passing car wafting the smell of alcohol towards his nose. Sheesh, the guy was tanked by the smell of it, and now he’d opened his mouth and gotten involved. He had to make sure the guy got home safe, and there was a chance he’d come from the Pride Parade earlier, and he’d just had too good of a time. A parade that he’d had to miss, for the third year in a row, thanks to work. “But I don’t mind helping you out if you’re lost. Name’s Alfred.”

 

He lifted his head at the voice, sucking in a breath. He could feel himself shaking, feel his fingers trembling, a sensation built of anger and frustration. There was a burn in his chest, twice the heartburn from his drinking than a normal human would have encountered. He felt ill- so very ill. So slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to look at the human by his side, feeling a shuddering sob building up inside of him. “Alfred-,” his voice cracked as he looked at the boy, seeing someone who was surely in his early to mid twenties- no older than thirty in any case no younger than seventeen. What he saw was true compassion in those blue eyes, a sort of empathy that was swelling up from within that tired look that seemed so out of place on such a young man. “I don’t know- where-,” he felt the tears run down his cheeks, unable to hold them back. “I don’t know where I am-,” he missed his companions. He missed his friends. He missed the cute alien princess who had been hinting that she would be fertile in six to twenty months. He missed the warm smiles of his fellows- and he saw a warm heart in the man beside him. “My- my home-,” he moved to run a hand back through his hair, feeling the firm braids that were weaved in with bright ribbons and thread. He felt horribly out of place- and wanted his TARDIS. “I- street… Seventh street?” He remembered seeing that on one of the signs by his ship before he’d started wandering. He looked to Alfred for answers, having nowhere else to turn. “I-I’m the Doctor.”

 

Yeah, Alfred was a sucker for situations like this. Even though he knew the guy was pretty trashed, and that was likely why he was so emotional, his heart still bled for him. “Yeah, I used to get lost when I first moved here all the time. Don’t feel too bad about it pal. I’ll get ya to seventh street. No point taking the bus since we’re so close.” He stood up and offered out a hand to help pull the guy to his feet, “C’mon, on your feet doctor. I’ll help ya walk, just don’t throw up on me alright?”

 

“N-no- never,” he would never allow himself to do something so vulgar as to hurl on his savior. He took Alfred’s hand, clinging to him as he pulled himself to his feet, breathing rather rapidly as he slumped over, forced to cling to Alfred so that he could walk straight. He knew he had to be a sight- his hair all done up, his tie missing- but despite that, he swallowed back bile, the burn in his chest turning horribly uncomfortable. “I-I was at a party,” he said, feeling the need to explain his behavior. “I- I should have stayed inside-,” he leaned against Alfred’s shoulder, trying to control himself. “Got to-get home…”

 

Alfred helped the British import get an arm over his shoulders with a chuckle. What wasn’t amusing about a British guy sounding offended at the thought of puking on someone? In fact he’d question someone not being at least a little entertained by the situation. Alfred wrapped an arm around the nameless doctor’s waist area to help hold him up as they walk. “These stories seem to always start with ‘I was at a party’.” Grinning he started walking them toward seventh street, reckoning that this doctor person had been partying it up at the Pride. “We’ll get you home doc, just need to know where on Seventh street I’m supposed to be taking you.” There weren’t a lot of residential areas on seventh from what he could remember, so the request did strike him as a little odd. Then again the guy had said he was a doctor, and a doctor in theory could afford to live in one of those fancy places. 

 

“I-,” he stumbled as they reached the alley leading up to seventh, recognizing the pile of trash outside of the building where he had parked the TARDIS. He pulled out his key, still hanging on the leather necklace he kept on himself, for lack of a companion. “Here,” he groaned, pointing in the general direction of his ship, the sudden arm movement sending him stumbling towards the blue phone box that was the only constant in his life. He fumbled with the key as he got to the door, past the puddles of dried soda and thrown out food, the discarded streamers and excessive amounts of glitter. It was parked directly by the brick wall that ran between the buildings, hidden beside the bins that looked now to be overflowing. “Help…” He looked to Alfred as his now- clumsy fingers were unable to get the darn thing into the hole. “Alfred- I can’t do it by myself-,” he weakly held out the key, just at the entrance of the alleyway by the dumpster. “One-,” he swallowed, “one last favour.”

 

Confused, Alfred stopped when the man said ‘here’, cocking his head at the closed up business. He looked to the old building beside them, and then glanced towards the restaurant that had clearly finished for the evening. “You sure doc?” Alfred allowed the blonde to stumble away from him towards the mass of trash, struggling to pull a key out of his pant’s pocket. That’s when he noticed the outdated, out of place phone booth. It takes a second for him to register that the doctor was talking to him, the sound of his name pulling him back. “Oh uh..sure..” He doubted that the key would open the old phone booth, but his curiosity got the better of him. Maybe the guy was really homeless and lived out of the phone booth? How’d that make any sense though, he wouldn’t have a key to an antique phone booth in that case. 

Alfred came forward and took the key from him. “Don’t sweat it, I’ll stick around until you’re safe at home.” He smiled at him then stuck the key into the lock, getting the piece of metal in on the first try and giving it a twist. When the door actually unlocked Alfred cocked a brow and opened the door a crack, “Well, what d’ya know.” He couldn’t help but notice that the phone box was somehow glowing - but the only phone boxes he was familiar with were red, and were found in Busch Gardens, even though he hadn’t been in years - despite surely being out of service, if it had ever worked.

 

“Home!” The Doctor opened the door once Alfred did the hard part- turning the key. He reached around Alfred and pulled the key free once the door was open, and returned the ancient leather tie over his head, sighing as the smell of home washed over him. It was metal and smoke and oil- science made magic that wafted into his nose and across his senses. The glow of the TARDIS was a balm to his anxious stomach, a mother’s embrace to calm his fears. He didn’t even think about Alfred being behind him as he skipped - at least in his mind, it was more of a stumbling limp - to the control panel. “Oh baby, I had the worst day,” he sighed as he ran his hand across the warm metal, that all but seemed to purr at his presence, glowing a little brighter, humming a little louder. “Let’s leave this horrible, horrible town…”

 

Alfred would have been willing to bet his whole month’s salary that this guy was homeless and living out of an abandoned phone booth. That was why he followed after the blond, maybe he could talk him into getting cleaned up, that bleeding heart rearing its head. The last thing he expected was to walk into a spaceship. His mouth fell open as he watched the alien hobble over to what looked like the control panel and start molesting it. Things got even more weird when the spaceship seemed to react to the petting. But overriding all of that was a sense of vindication, “I knew it! I knew Aliens existed! Dude!” Alfred walked over, hands trembling with barely contained excitement, as he tried to take it all in. There were structural supports around the main platform, that looked to be both functional and natural, as though four identical trees had their roots growing beneath the platform, and that their trunks were churned out through the heart of the ship- and he half expected to see leaves at the top of the chamber, instead of what resembled steel. At the heart of it all, was some sort of of blue-green glowing case, not unlike a heart pump that ran from the control panel to the ceiling. Other panels, other controls, ran around the room, beneath dozens, hundreds, of circles that gave off a golden light against the bronze metal that made up the walls of the room.

“What planet are you from? How long did it take you to get here? Why does your ship look like a phone booth? How is all of this..” He gestured around them, his blue eyes shining in the almost teal light of the TARDIS, “Even fitting in an alleyway??” Alfred wandered off, not bothering to wait in front of the drunk alien for answers. He wanted to study everything, the dimmed sparks of interest he’d once held for science fanned to life by what he’d stumbled into. “Should you be driving this while drunk??” He ran his hand across one of the structural supports, noting the leather chairs that were situated by the railing of the platform, above the grated floor. They existed in stark contrast with the ship, something that looked like it came from Star Wars - Star Trek would have produced something more refined - this looked. . . wild. 

 

The Doctor took that last question as a personal challenge, and closed the door behind Alfred with a lazy snap of his fingers, cutting off his exit, and sealing the two of them inside the ship. “You couldn’t stop me,” he declared, as he turned to look at the human that had wandered aboard his vessel. 

 

Alfred turned, hearing the challenge in the drunk’s voice, “You wanna- bet..” It was too late, the crazy alien had started doing things with the knobs and buttons on the control panel. 

 

Somewhere in the back of his inebriated mind, some part of him recognized that he owed this human a debt for getting him home- and a small trip couldn’t hurt. It never had before, had it? And, well, it was his own fault for wandering outside while in such a state. He didn't even look at the console as he began twisting knobs and pulling levers, directing them on, as that beautiful, beautiful noise filled the air. He was just looking at Alfred, at that look of challenge, mixed with wonder that was covering his face. “Past, present, future? Something you’d like to see? I do owe you for taking me home…” He smirked as they left the alleyway with a jolt, grabbing suddenly at the edge of the panel for support, as they headed out into space. It was just a little trip, before Alfred made his decision. “Though I suppose I am driving while drunk, how irresponsible of me!” He laughed then, really and truly laughed, despite everything that had happened. “You know what, Alfred? I’m going to take you to a party. The likes of which you’ve never seen before!”

 

He rushed over, just as there was a jolt that sent him falling towards the control panel beside this madman of an alien. The alleyway disappeared from sight beyond the closed door. He was left in a panic as he gripped the control panel, finding himself at the mercy of this alien. Faced with the inevitability of being thrown into the unknown, he took a deep breath, expecting to get sucked out into space, given that all that was between them was a thin door that had felt to be made only of wood. When that didn’t happen after a while he opened his eyes and looked towards the door, his mind jumping instead to the possibility of a probing. 

 

“What the-” Ignoring the Alien’s question he walked over to the door, his fingers releasing the control panel, in favor of feeling over that old wood, the floor creaking quietly beneath his sneakers. “Huh? What? Party?” That word caught his attention and he was walking back over to the inebriated doctor, shaking his head, “No. You-” It had been years since Alfred had had to play “babysit the drunk.” But he could remember having to field them from attempting to return to the party they’d just been removed from. Saying the word “No” and trying to outright tell them what to do never worked. “You’ve got a really amazing ship right here.” He bit his lower lip, trying to think of a course of action. Alfred didn’t want to take advantage of a drunk alien, but he’d resort to flirting if that was what it took to get the guy to just drink a little water and pass out for a bit to sober up. If he hadn’t been so tired himself he would have been down to party with an alien. But he was also sure that if the guy drank too much more he’d be vomiting for sure. “Teach me about it?” He slid his hand down the control panel, noting that nothing was labeled, but that the metal was warm, almost pulsating beneath him. As though it were alive. . .

 

The Doctor looked at him in surprise. In all of his years- he had just offered Alfred to go anywhere. Anywhere in time, or space. He had seen all of human history, seen civilizations rise and fall, seen time travel and had traveled in the seconds before death, and the time between times, when the world was just a breath away from existence or destruction. Faced with the vastness of space, the entirety of his world just outside the door… Alfred was asking him to teach him about his ship. Not even a “it’s bigger on the inside” throwaway comment. But rather he seemed to just want to know about his ship. He sat in one of the chairs around the control panel, as his ship drifted lazily in orbit around the green Earth, and calmed down for the moment, in his sheer surprise. He looked towards Alfred as he reassessed the man, seeing that he was different from the companions he had taken on before. “The math behind it… The science,” he began slowly, feeling then, the negative effects of his drinking, “are millennia beyond your comprehension, I’m afraid.” He stood on shaky legs, holding his hand out to Alfred. “But I can… Walk you around.” If that was what the human wanted…

 

There was a moment where all Alfred could think was, Crap, I broke the alien. I broke the fucking alien. Luckily that train of thought was easily derailed, it just took the guy trying to talk to him to pull him back from those thoughts. Alfred snorted, “You mean, you don’t know how to explain it to me in a way I’ll understand.” Smirking he took the doctor’s hand, willing to help him walk around for a guided tour. Maybe he’d try asking again when the guy wasn’t so wasted. “A tour doesn’t sound bad though. Don’t suppose this thing has a kitchen does it?” 

 

“Kitchen…” The Doctor squeezed Alfred’s hand tightly as he began to lead him away from the console. Away from the bridge of the ship, so to put it. The passages and corridors within the TARDIS all resembled one another, and went back much farther than simply the bridge. But the Doctor didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate, didn’t even stop to ponder where he was in the ship, as he traveled down hallways that he had traversed for hundreds of years. “Kitchen,” he mumbled, much more for himself than for Alfred, as he guided the boy deeper into the ship, the number of rooms by no means the heart of the old girl, no matter how far they went, as he took him to a pair of doors that appeared to be like any other. But a flick of the wrist, a snap of the fingers, and the doors opened, showing off a room that any castle would be proud to call its own, if but for the sheer size of the structure. But apart from the size… The appliances looked incredibly average. The whole of it resembled a twenty first century kitchen, with numerous doors and cabinets, each filled with fruit and plants from countless worlds, as well as meat, cheese, even snack foods. The Doctor gestured to the room, his stomach lurching at the mere thought of eating just then. “Ta da.”

 

The corridors weren’t very impressive, if Alfred took a running jump he could touch the top of them. They had obviously been designed to be more utilitarian than the control room, with their lighting fixtures running across the bottom part of the wall, some three inches above the floor, and the top of the wall, some three inches below where it hit the ceiling. The lighting looked white, against a deep blue, or perhaps a dark grey wall, unlike the bronze of the main deck. The two parts of the ship could have belonged to two different spaceships. What the hallways lacked, it seemed the rooms would more than make up for if the one they’d just entered was anything to go by. “Mind if I grab some water and crackers, just a little snack for the tour?” The sheer size of the kitchen was humbling, his whole apartment would have fit inside of it easily. Alfred did have an ulterior motive, he’d grab two water bottles and during their tour he could offer the alien crackers to try to settle his stomach a little. Yet again he didn’t wait for an answer, going further into the kitchen hoping he’d be given some direction by his new alien friend as to where he could find the items he was looking for. 

 

The Doctor smiled at the human’s actions, finding it highly amusing that he had just headed straight out into the kitchen like that. “Earth food is over here,” he said, going over to one side of the room as he opened one of the larger pantries, due to his high number of earthling guests, the wooden frame a deep brown. He rather favoured the brown and green motif of the bridge, and here, the cabinets were all brown, with a cream floor and green accents. He wanted his ship to look well-organized, even if his life wasn’t.

“And come on Alfred! You’re in a ship. Did I take an astronaut off on a journey with me, or are you truly this hard to impress?” He gestured to the open pantry, letting Alfred have his pick of the offered food. “You could have water… saltines,” he scoffed, seeing how he had picked up an American on his ship. “Or you could try something I know you’ve never had before. Where’s your sense of adventure? You have a ship that can go anywhere, anytime, and you want to know about where I live- and here you are asking for the most boring of things to eat.” He turned his head, wondering if he had chosen the wrong sort of man to accompany him, even if this was for a favour. He got off on the humans’ impressions of him- wowing them, seeing their reactions, it truly pleased him. Alfred had seemed excited at first… “But I suppose-,” he looked green for a second, his hand going to his mouth. “Oh- oh-,” his whole body lurched, trying to expel the alcohol, since it was struggling to metabolize what it viewed as poison.

 

Alfred chuckled, “Earth food,” he shook his head, what kind of luck did he have. He had an honest to god alien standing right next to him, on a mother fluffing spaceship, and he was playing babysit the drunk. He grabbed two water bottles and started to grab the crackers when he noticed that the guy was starting to turn green. “Shit.” Alfred dropped the bottles to grab a bowl of fruit, the contents dumped out onto the shelf, as the water went rolling. He shoved the bowl into the alien’s (the guy obviously wasn’t a doctor) hands. 

 

The Doctor took the bowl, and losing the last shred of his dignity, began to puke copious amounts of almost pure alcohol into the porcelain container. Over and over again, his entire body shook as he lost every bit of liquor that he had ingested at the party. He fell to his knees as the last of the bile left his stomach, and he was left, looking up at Alfred on his kitchen floor. He was starting to sober up, his body much more efficient at such things than a common human. Which just made the situation worse, as he began to very clearly realize his situation- and his fouled mouth. “Bloody blazes…” He sat the bowl down on the floor, shaking his head in disbelief. “So that’s the type of drunk I am… A sloppy, messy…” He felt the heartburn returning, and he moved over the bowl again, but nothing else came out.

 

Alfred shook his head and started rubbing the Alien’s back, trying to help him stay calm. “The crackers were something I thought we could share dude. Food doesn’t really seem to be your friend at the moment.” While doing so, he couldn’t help but notice that the guy’s heart wasn’t exactly where it should be according to human physiology. Not that surprising, given that the guy was an alien. Alfred chose to ignore it for the time being, more concerned about trying to keep puke from going everywhere. Thank god the ship had gravity. That thought brought his mind back to the statement he hadn’t really paid attention to, “Any time or anytime?” It made a huge difference and he probably shouldn’t be questioning a dude on the verge of puking up his guts about whether or not his ship can time travel. 

 

“Ugh… Be a good lad and pass me one of those waters, would you?” He asked, trying to gather himself up again. He closed his eyes, realizing that the only adventure he needed to take right then, was to the bathroom… And on to bed. “Damn it all . . . damn it. And if you must know… Any time. Anytime I want to go, which would happen to be any time, and anywhere I like. And the next trip I would take, I’d take you home, but…”

 

Alfred was mildly alarmed when the puke didn’t smell like puke, but he just chalked it up to the whole alien thing. It looked like a bowl full of Fireball. . . He took a step back, being careful to not stare at the guy while he finished up vomiting, who in their right mind wanted to look at puke, certainly not him. The British swear signaled that it was okay to look again so he did, focusing on the alien and not the bowl of vomit. He turned and returned to the discarded bottles, setting one back in the cabinet where it belonged. He cracked open the seal of the other one before handing it over, trying to be helpful. “I’m cool with waiting till you’re sobered up dude. Plus if you really can time travel it’s not like I have to worry about being late to work.” Alfred grinned, “I could actually get a full night’s rest and even sleep in a little. Not an adventure, but maybe I won’t be so tired after work that I can actually go do something after I get off.” He was trying to downplay his disappointment while his judgemental inner voice, which sounded oddly like his boss, whispered how the alien wouldn’t have even bothered with him if he hadn’t been shit faced. The realization of that negative voice sounding like his boss gave him the courage to speak despite his worries, “Not that I’m not down to go check out that party after you’re feeling better, if you’re still up for it.” 

 

“The party will continue for the next week,” the Doctor assured him, shaking his head before he grabbed the water bottle, taking a hesitant sip, before he gulped the whole thing down, replacing the contents of his belly. He felt much better then, his mind clearer than it had been before. But he knew he still needed sleep. “I really ought to take you somewhere you want to go… As payment for your good will.” 

 

“Ah, so no rush then.” Alfred smiled, that sounded like this could end up being an extended stay with plenty of chances to geek out over the spaceship. He watched the blond potter about, getting rid of the vomit. 

 

He stood up again, taking the bowl with him, as he properly disposed of his own mess and trash, settling the bowl aside for the ship to automatically clean. He leaned against the kitchen counter, looking his new companion over. “Sleep… Right, we both need sleep.” He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his mind of the fuzz that had settled within it, even with the majority of alcohol purged from his system. “So! Sleep!” He clasped his hands together, trying to pull back some of his dignity. “Sleep means bathing and tooth brushing and pajamas- but not at the same time.” He went back to Alfred, keeping a respectful distance, given what had just happened. 

 

It was a little confusing whether the alien was talking to himself or him for a moment there. He was well aware of sleep rituals, though he frequently ignored many of them. The alien’s seemed to resemble his own for the most part, with the teeth brushing and all, probably because the guy looked so human. As it was, much to his own physical displeasure, it wasn’t doing him any favors to sleep on his futon, so whatever the alien was offering him was better than what was waiting at home.

 

“And I’m sorry to say this, but you don’t look like the type of fellow that I should put in a bedroom all by yourself… You might decide to go exploring. So if you’ll come with me, Alfred… I think we’ll be using the bunk beds tonight. No one likes to sleep with a drunk, so I do apologize…” He sighed, having not even gotten to properly know the companion. He typically dropped them off at their own homes to sleep until he got to trust and know them, but the way he was, he could end up jumping ahead in time, rather than space. Best to just stay in orbit for a few hours. “I think I have a set of pajamas that are just your size though.”

 

He pouted, “Why, I don’t seem trustworthy to you?...” Alfred sighed though, “Yeah..that could happen. Not that I’d go through your stuff or anything dude.” But wandering where he wasn’t technically supposed to go, in order to check out the alien tech of the ship? He shrugged off the apology, “You’ll be on a different bed, same bunk, different bed. It’s whatever. I don’t think you have much motive to murder me. Cause to be honest, I’m the one who should worry about an alien deciding it’d be less hassle to kill the human than to try to MIB them with a memory thingy.” With another shrug he walked towards the alien and the door, “Let’s go get ready for sleep then.” 

 

“MIB?” He followed after Alfred before moving to lead the way, taking him towards the guests bedrooms. “Oh, right, you Americans and your preconceived notions of aliens. For the record, I don’t do the memory wipe thing…. Often. Well, I have done it before… But it’s incredibly unpleasant, and coming from someone who has had their memory wiped in the past, it’s not something I care to revisit. Let me think…” He looked Alfred over, looking amused as he continued. “Scared I’ll probe you, Alfred? Dissect you for science?” He snorted then, actually snorted, as he led Alfred past so many doors that he could hardly begin to count them, until he finally got to where he intended for them to sleep. “And I don’t kill people… Not intentionally. I find the idea abhorrent.” He headed through the next set of doors, into a room that appeared to be a five year old’s dream land, with bunk beds that connected to a slide, a ball pit that was several yards long, and a wall that was an aquarium, with aquatic life of all sorts swimming through the liquid. “Oh dear,” Doctor shook his head. “I never did get around to redecorating, did I?”

 

“Ya know.” Alfred quirks a brow again, “For an alien you sound awfully. . . British. ‘You Americans’.” He decided to ignore the fact that a memory wipe was actually possible since it sounded highly unlikely such an undertaking would occur. Nah, Alfred’s alien friend didn’t sound like he cared for the mind wiping business at all. His cheeks heated up at the idea of being probed and he just shook his head, “No I’m not scared you’ll actually probe me,” It sounded like a ridiculous idea when it came from the Alien’s mouth, “And I think I could take you in a fight dude. You look like you weigh thirty pounds under that suit soaking wet.” Alfred smirked at his meme reference and followed the alien through the doors and stopped. The smile fell off his face as the laughter of children filled his ears, and he could practically see the kids who had played here. Shivering he rubbed at his arms, “This place is huge. Are all the rooms this big?” 

“This TARDIS was designed for a large crew,” the Doctor admitted, as he stepped into the room, casually looking around to see how he had set up his guest quarters, before he headed to the closet, where clothes of all sizes were waiting- some of them having been worn by the last occupants of the room. He ignored Alfred’s comment about the fight, as he looked through the clothes for something appropriate for his guest to wear. “I. . . I am the only one. So it seems rather out of place, the rooms. But they were intended for an entire battalion to be able to live comfortably.” He fetched them both a set of pajamas, offering the folded clothes to Alfred. “And my voice? It’s done by an automatic translator in my . . . ship. Your voice sounds like simple English to me, because I happen to speak the language. But my voice comes out as . . . British to you, because of my accent. My location on my homeworld affects my dialect- and this is how it’s translated into your common tongue.”

 

 

“That would explain it.. Are you-” He stops himself realizing how silly it would be to ask the alien if he was capable of running a ship that large by himself, obviously he was. Alfred took the clothing that was offered to him. “Ah, that, makes sense actually.” He looked around for somewhere a little more private to change, not seeing one immediately he gave up and set the pajamas down on the lower bed. “Wouldn’t it just translate a word like crackers to saltines then? Or what about if I say trash can? Do you just hear the word bin?” Alfred unbuttoned his work shirt and dropped it to the floor, moving straight on to stripping off his undershirt. The sensation of deja vu eating at him, he’d seen this room before. 

 

The Doctor joined him and began to change as well, not feeling particularly inclined to try and hide his body. He was lean, yes, and not overly muscular. But he was not ashamed of his form- after all, it was just a temporary thing. And if he had self-esteem issues, they certainly were not aimed at a temporary flesh prison. “It doesn’t work like that,” he explained, being patient as he stripped out of his suit, remembering a similar question he had received some odd years back. “We understand the same language. . . but the dialects remain mostly unaffected. And what if it had translated your dialects? Could you imagine how silly you would sound? ‘If I say bin? Do you just hear the word bin?’ No, it’s much better that it works this way,” he explained. “Though sometimes things can sound a little odd, I suppose.” He pulled on his pajama bottoms, actually glad that someone was interested in the work behind his TARDIS.

 

 

Alfred hadn’t meant to stare at the alien as he changed, mostly it was curiosity about how much he looked like a human. When the other blonde had gotten down to removing his bottoms Alfred had quickly gone back to minding his own business. He felt a little self conscious about just how big his body was standing next to his smaller friend. “Yeah, you’ve got a point.” Alfred pulled his pajama bottoms on and started folding up his clothes. “So what’s with this room? You don’t look like you reproduce through mitosis.” Though to be honest he didn’t know what someone who did reproduce that way would look like. “You get it out of a catalogue or something..? Sorta reminds me of a place I visited as a kid..” That didn’t seem quite right, but his memories from before he was adopted were, vague and fuzzy at best. But this place, now that it was in his face, was familiar. 

 

“Honestly,” the Doctor rolled his eyes at his latest companion, shaking his head as he folded up the clothes that he had been wearing before. “No, I do not asexually reproduce, if you must know. My race reproduces the exact same way yours does, if you’re so curious, though we also possess alternative means. I have the parts to prove it,” he huffed. “I happen to have a granddaughter, I’ll have you know. Well- I met her a few hundred years ago, in any case. And I’ve had children.” 

 

Alfred opened his mouth to tell the alien to ‘prove it’, but thought better of it. The guy did still seem a little intoxicated. “Granddaughter? You don’t look old enough to even have a kid.” He sits down on the lower bunk, “I call bottom.” Maybe it was mean to make the drunk alien take the top bunk but he had technically been abducted by the guy after helping him back to his spaceship, not that Alfred was really complaining. He stared up at the wooden slats above him, his eyes catching on a carving. Alfred pushed his glasses back up his nose before sitting up to get a closer look. “A. J. . . “ His fingers trace over the carved letters. 

 

He took his suit back to the closet, setting it back among the many clothes that were there, along with several children’s outfits. The TARDIS could sort it out, and send it back to his bedroom later, after a deep cleaning. He returned to Alfred, looking a little irritated that his guest had asked such a thing, but still open to explaining the situation to him. Who asked about privates within an hour . . . actually, perhaps it had been a while since they’d met. “And no . . . I . . . well, regardless of how the room was actually made, it was used for several children, some years back. There was an incident that needed to be settled, and I needed a place to keep the children. . . at least temporarily. I simply never bothered to revert it back to what it had been before.”

 

“I’m seven hundred and ninety eight years old,” he continued, not particularly caring if the human believed him or not. He seemed transfixed with the bed as it was. “Honestly, you think all races age the same as you humans?” He left the room then, going to the bathroom to wash the taste from his mouth. Perhaps he hadn’t seen his grandchild in years- but he knew she existed. He had met her, spent time with her- he had grown to love her. And he didn’t have to prove to that teat-sucking brat that he was old enough or man enough to have a child! He huffed as he went to brush his teeth, fuming quietly as he scrubbed his mouth out. His parts did work. They worked as fine as any other man’s! And if he was somehow regenerated as a woman, then they’d work then as well! He had nothing to prove! Nothing!

 

The declaration of age caught Alfred’s attention, and he addressed it as the alien moved around the room. “What? No way dude.” He grinned, watching the alien get himself all worked up as he stomped to the bathroom. When he was alone again Alfred stood up, wandering through the eerily familiar room. In his dream he’d had a weird old carved toy and hidden it. There’d been a panel that the other children hadn’t known about, the man had shown it to him, given him a place that was safe from the others. A secret, a taste of the power of knowledge, he’d known more than the others. A panel. . . beneath the aquarium, tucked in beside the bed. Where he could hide when he was overwhelmed, when the others were too loud, or when he was lonely.

Alfred was kneeling by the concealed panel when his friend marched back out to him. He looked up and chuckled at how he was being, in a word, pouted at. That most definitely looked like pouting. “Didn’t mean to offend you dude. You just look my age. Twenty year olds don’t have grandkids.” Alfred glanced back at the wall, running his hand over the area, trying to remember how he’d gotten it to open in his dream. 

 

“And just whot do you think you’re doing, Mr. I don’t know how reproduction works?” the Doctor asked, as Alfred began to get intimate with the wall. “I know we were talking about procreation just now, but there’s no hole of glory waiting for you there,” he scoffed, heading back to the bunk bed that they were to share. He climbed up onto the top bunk, not about to hint to Alfred that there was a treasure hidden behind that wall- the treasure of a child that he had been quite fond of some years ago. Alfred didn’t need to know everything after all. And there were secrets that belonged between him and his former companions- secrets that he never intended to share.

 

“Eh, it might sound crazy, but you did just say you were over seven hundred years old so.. I’ve had dreams..or a memory or.. “ he shakes his head, “Something. I’ve seen this room before.” Alfred laughed, “Not looking for a glory hole dude. Just a little carved horse.” He sat down on the ground, tongue sticking out a little as he continued to prod, unable to just let it go. Alfred rapped his knuckles against the panel but, nothing, it didn’t even sound different from other areas of the wall when he tested them the same way. “Huh..” He scratched at the back of his head. “Ha, oh well.” Alfred pushed himself back up to his feet and gets back on the bed, this time getting between the sheets. It was time for sleep, he could search the alien ship later. The alien ship he was about to crash in!


End file.
